Things That Don't Matter
by SLOVA
Summary: H.R.H. Princess Emoria is the sole heir to her own kingdom, but as expected, her marriage has been decided upon by people she's never met to a -man- she's never met. With the encouragement of you, the MC, she will put her foolish feelings for a particular butler aside in order to honor her royal duties. But things take a turn for the worse when she realizes too much relies on her.


**|| This story is to be considered in the GREE version of _Be My Princess_ where the MC is an employee of Jean Pierre, delivering a dress to the party, but is persuaded by Cynthia to take her place instead. This begins roughly right after the common route stages are completed. The MC has a very set way of speaking in gameplay with plenty of "ohs", "whats", and "huhs", so I'll try my best to stay true to the original writing style. Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated. ||**

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I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I managed to slip out into the corridors just outside the great hall to take a moment for myself. It's all been so much to take in. And with everything that's happened, meeting the different noblemen and ladies, and then the diverse _princes_ – this was definitely not what I had expected on my first day working for Jean Pierre.

"I really like your dress."

Huh?

Someone had spoken to me from behind. I turned quickly to see it was a gorgeous young lady with bright eyes and dark hair that veered toward a subtle auburn. She wore a gown that I could only gawk at as a designer. She was so regal and beautiful, much like the ladies already inside the hall. But I realized that she had actually complimented _me_.

Oh . . .

Was she being serious? I looked back up to her face only to be met with her relaxed smile. It relieved me and certainly made me feel better about those women who had been glaring daggers at me just earlier for dancing with the princes. But when I didn't reply, she made a face.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "Frog in your throat?" she chuckled to herself. "I don't blame you. Bless Prince Edward's heart, but some of Charles' cuisine here leaves me a little speechless."

I shook my head quickly. "O-oh, no. I'm fine. Thank you. Your gown is beautiful."

She grinned at me. "I appreciate that. Are you trying to ditch the party? The men are all too eager once they see a cute girl all alone with no one to dance with, so I get it if you're trying to skip out." She put a finger to her lips and winked. "I'll keep quiet, I promise."

She sure was friendly. "I was getting my bearings, actually. It's a little much to take in."

"Is it your first time partying at Nobel Michel Castle?" she asked, staring at me curiously.

Oh . . . I might as well be honest.

"Yes, it is."

"Wow, and you haven't been swallowed alive yet?" she laughed gently. It was a wonder to me, too, really.

Just then, a young man approached us and inclined his head respectfully. "My Lady, there you are. The guests and wondering about your absence."

"Impatient, aren't they?" she sighed, then smiled at me. "Well, I hope you have a wonderful time. Don't get lost in the halls. Or enjoy the wine selection _too_ freely." Again, she laughed quietly.

The young man beside her smiled at her joking like I did before she was escorted away.

Shortly after, I reentered the main hall and was, as if on cue, was offered a glass of champagne. I kept to myself for a little while, attempting to relax in the dignified atmosphere. It didn't take long to realize that, with some frequent glances back at me by noble eyes, I couldn't. Though, the crowd's attention suddenly harbored a new concentration down at one of the entrances. I hadn't realized Prince Roberto had come up to my side with an idle smile on his face.

"Looks like Emma's here," he commented, noting my curiosity as to what was going on.

"Emma, Your Highness?"

Then the mass of dapper men and hesitant ladies parted and the same young woman from earlier stepped through. Her eyes locked onto Prince Roberto's and, escaping any men hoping to ask her for a dance, walked straight up to him, making the others shrink away.

"Prince Roberto," she greeted, a sort of mischievous grin on her face. "You look awfully cute when you see my uneasiness avoiding other suits."

I couldn't tell if she was complimenting him or accusing him. Prince Roberto seemed to take it as both as he gave her chipper grin. "Do I?"

She turned to me then, smiling brightly. "You again. Well, if I had known you were Prince Roberto's date, I would have brought my boxing gloves."

Wh-what?

"Uh-uh-no! I'm not his date . . . "

"You don't have to defend yourself that quickly." Prince Roberto sulked jokingly.

Smiling at my embarrassment, the young lady continued. "Just joking I hope you're having a good time."

"Oh, ah, yes!"

She seemed pleased. It was then that Prince Edward approached us and bowed slightly to her. "If Prince Roberto hasn't yet taken advantage of your idle feel, might I ask you for a dance, Princess Emoria?"

Princess . . . ?!

"How can I refuse a face like that?" she chuckled and took his hand as he offered it out to her before they excused themselves for a waltz.

I turned to Prince Roberto questioningly afterward. Predicting my question before I had spoken, he clarified, "That's Emoria Volkova from Slava Kingdom."

Slava? That was south of Nobel Michel, I was sure. Thinking back to high school social studies classes, it bordered Liberty Kingdom by the west, I think. Its monarchy had been going on for centuries.

"She's rather . . . bold." I said unthinkingly. I realized my slip-up and stared at Prince Roberto. He didn't seem bothered in the slightest.

In fact, he smiled with amusement. "_Rather_ is right."

I observed them for a moment. She was just as graceful as Prince Edward, despite the quicker tempo, her long dress, and I noticed for just a moment, her tall heels. She spared a glance back at us for a moment. When the song ended, she curtsied to Prince Edward before murmuring something to him. He landed a hand on her back and escorted her back to us, warding off any other gentlemen. She really knew how to use the princes to her advantage in situations like this.

"Is it Jean Pierre?" she asked me as soon as she had reached us again.

"U-uh, what?"

"Your dress," she elaborated. "Is it Jean Pierre?"

"How did you know that?"

"I'm right then?" She seemed happy. "It looks like something of his. I love his label the most. Most of the dresses I wear to these kinds of events are his."

Prince Edward set a friendly hand on my shoulder and said, "Miss Rose works for Jean Pierre."

Princess Emoria stared. "Do you really? Lucky girl! Are you one of the designers?"

Er . . .

"I'm playing errand girl today."

"Errand girl?"

I explained the whole ordeal of my intention to only deliver the dress, but instead being asked by Cynthia to take her place. She seemed interested in what I had to say and found her resolve with a chuckle. "Are you nervous?"

What? "Nervous?"

"You're not? With all of these good-looking princes so close. I think I might be, if I were in your shoes," she said easily.

Well . . .

"You're much too bold for a princess," declared Prince Keith distastefully as he approached us with the other princes in tow.

"Am I?" Princess Emoria paused for a moment, then continued more gently, "My apologies."

Huh? For just a moment, it seemed like she was forcing herself before her facial features relaxed naturally. Again, the young man with her earlier approached her side. He seemed a bit bashful. "Mu Lady, may I bring you anything?"

She stared up at him and gently prodded his pink cheek with her fingertip. "Marko, what's with you? Are you feeling well?"

"Ah, yes. Some young ladies didn't realize I was your butler before they asked if I would dance with them."

Princess Emoria smiled with delight. "So cute you fooled the nobles, huh? You ought to have told them you were a duke. I wouldn't have minded. You have the keys to the car anyway. I could get a ride back with Prince Roberto."

He scratched his cheek timidly and cleared his throat. "May I get you anything?"

"Would it make you feel more comfortable if you were to be doing your job?" she asked, smiling sympathetically.

"My Lady . . . "

"Sure then," she replied. "A glass of wine, if you don't mind."

"Right away." With that, Marko turned and walked swiftly away.

"Again," Prince Keith said, seemingly annoyed. "Much too bold, whether with the commonfolk or nobles."

"Actually, it's mostly the princes and Marko." She linked her hands behind her back, stepping up to Prince Keith. "Watch your words. These heels are quite sharp."

"And should you take them off to try to attack me, you wouldn't be able to reach well anyway." He rebutted.

"Not a day goes by that I don't appreciate your cheek," she sighed, glancing to the side to see most of the nobles staring at their proximity.

"Now see what you've done," he exhaled heavily, offering out his hand. "Come then."

"As if I could reject His Royal Abrasiveness," she replied, taking his hand and moving out onto the main floor to dance with him. What a . . . whatever I expected a princess to be, it certainly wasn't quite like that. The regality emanated from her naturally, but the way she spoke . . . it was, well, it was friendly and rough at the same time. It was just . . . strange.

Beside me, Prince Roberto let out a laugh. "Their bickering always gets me in knots." He then turned to me, his eyes bright. "Dear Rose," he began, offering out his hand. "Would you dance with me?"

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**|| Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated. ||**


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